Somewhere Over
by M and M Works
Summary: Episode tag for Promicide written from Joey's POV. The necklace Joey wore to prom inspired this piece. See the companion piece "Breakwall" for Pacey's POV.


**_A/N: This is a missing scene from _****_Promicide_****_. The inspiration for this piece came from noticing the necklace Joey wore to the Senior prom. We were curious about what could have happened after Joey got home and wanted to explore the emotions she must have been feeling. Heads up, it is angsty. As always, music is a big influence to our writing. The fic isn't set to a particular song but _****Lifehouse****_ fans might be able to spot which song had the most influence ; ) There will be a companion piece to this looking at Pacey's mindset that evening, so watch this space..._**

***~* Somewhere Over *~*  
by M&M Works**

My ears are ringing when I enter my bedroom, as though I've come home from a heavy metal concert and my hearing has yet to adjust. I don't hear the bedroom door click shut behind me. In fact, I can't even remember leaving the limo or coming indoors; everything since leaving the boat is a blur.

All I'm aware of is my bedside clock and its steady rhythm.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

With my back resting against my bedroom door, I close my eyes and try to match my breathing so it's in harmony with the beat of the clock. But I can't. It's not working. The blood in my veins is pounding too hard.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

God, I feel so incredibly tired.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Cautious not to make any sound and disturb my current state of comfortable numbness, too fearful of awakening my private thoughts, I walk as though in a trance across my room. It's like I'm sleepwalking only I'm awake. Once I've reached my dresser I carefully take off my shoes then place both hands lightly upon the pine surface.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Ever so slowly I raise my head and look directly into the mirror above the dresser, steadily taking in my appearance. My inspection is thorough yet apathetic. I start with my clothes and end at my face. Apart from the slight traces of smudged mascara underneath my eyes, you wouldn't think anything was wrong with me. From the outside, I looked normal; like an average girl dressed up for her Senior prom, now returning home after a carefree night.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Luckily, no one can see inside me – for I'm anything but normal or carefree there.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

I'm falling apart.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

As though it whispered to me, my eyes are pulled from the mirror and drawn to the framed black and white photograph of us, sitting beside my jewelry box. Our smiling faces, captured in happier times.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Now they seem to be mocking me, saying, "_See this? This happy couple? Well, too bad, sweetheart. This isn't your future. You had your chance. And guess what? You blew it._"

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

With a sudden force, I slam the photograph face down on the dresser causing the other objects on the top to rattle.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Trance over, I'm desperate now for a focus. Something, anything. I don't care what, I just want to block out everything, including that damn clock and its insistent, annoying ticking.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

I have to - _need_ to - erase that image of those happy faces imprinted behind my eyelids.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Because it hurts too much to remember.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Make it stop. _Please!_

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

I'm straining for air. My chest burns. I feel like I haven't taken a full breath since I climbed into the limo. I need air, _quickly_! But I can't breathe, the material of my dress, it's too tight; it's suffocating me! Gasping, I reach behind and fumble to locate the cool metal of my zipper. It's a struggle, my fingers seem detached from the rest of my body and are thick and uncoordinated. They won't do what I want them to.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

It's taking too long. Hurry up! Goddamn it! Frustrated, I abandon the zipper to pull uselessly at the sides of my dress then push the straps past my shoulders; my actions are random, hands moving everywhere. I need to get the dress off. _Now_! Finally managing to create enough slack to allow me to twist the dress around so the zipper is facing front, I snatch it and yank it down, hard.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Impatiently swiping the wisps of hair that have escaped from my ponytail out my eyes, I wrench the dress down my torso and step out of my satin prison. _Yes_! I can breathe again! Much like the actions of a drowning person rescued from the water, I gulp in huge mouthfuls of air relishing the feeling as my lungs refill with oxygen and wait for the black dots behind my eyes to disappear.

_Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock._

Once I'm able to see clearly, I reach down with shaky hands and lift up the crumpled material of my dress, my eyes automatically focusing on the carefully patched up tear.

_"You can't even see where I ripped it."_

With a scream I wouldn't – _couldn't_ - let surface and bubble from the back of my throat, where it's been waiting ever since we left the boat, I forcefully tear apart the material of my dress. I start at the old scar, where the fabric is at its weakest, and gradually work my way down the dress. The material's thick and stubborn, it's protesting against my actions, fighting the whole way, but it can't hold up against my onslaught.

At this, I will not fail.

It eventually succumbs and I let the two halves float to the floor in a pitiful lilac puddle.

I told you I didn't care about any of the prom paraphernalia, dress included.

My eyes return once more to the mirror, searching. Narrowing my gaze, I focus on the necklace nestled around my throat. I'm breathing hard now and, with each restless rise and fall of my chest, the chain bounces in time with my rapid heartbeat.

Funny how a broken heart can still beat.

The light from outside my window catches the stones and causes them to twinkle as they move upon my skin. Bessie calls it my rainbow necklace, all the colors of the rainbow present and accounted. I, of course, told her that not all of the colors where there; she countered that they were there, that I'd see them if I didn't try so hard.

I can feel my eyes begin to fill and my throat ache as it starts to constrict and burn. Oh God. I didn't think I had anything left in me to cry.

Guess I've been wrong about a lot of things recently.

You see, the necklace had held a different meaning for me. A special, private one. I'd worn it tonight as it reminded me of… it reminded me of, possibility.

Yeah, _possibility_; look how well that turned out.

I rub a fist against my throat trying to stop the ache inside. Don't cry, don't. No! Oh God, please no.

I'm barely holding on.

It's no use. I can't stop it. My shoulders quake as warmth slides down my cheeks and drops gracelessly off my chin; its pace is quick for it knows where it's going, following a previous trail where the fine hairs on my skin have already been displaced earlier in the evening.

I don't bother to wipe them away. What's the point? Another tear quickly follows, this time dipping between my dry lips and I can taste the sweet salt on the tip of my tongue.

Looks like the necklace was aptly named after all; rainbows are a tricky thing, you try to reach for them but just when you think you're close enough that you can actually touch them, they slip away.

Did you know that you can only see a rainbow from one side? If you tried to see it from the other direction, from behind it, you wouldn't be able to as the sunlight would be in the wrong position. You wouldn't see a rainbow; there would be nothing there at all.

The magic only works one way.

Maybe that's how it works with possibility, too.

I breathe out a cruel, humorless laugh – well, at least I can't hear that damn clock anymore.

Hands still shaking, I curse myself for whimpering as I reach behind my neck and grab the delicate lobster clasp between my thumb and forefinger and undo the chain. I let it pool in my palm for a while before taking it between my fingers and sliding it from one hand back to the other. Then I pull it taut - once, twice, three times.

I want the reminder gone. I want the necklace broken.

Just like I am.

I pull it taut again, this time very hard, almost to breaking point... but I… I can't do it. I can't break it. I can't lose control. I can't give up on it.

Last year, someone defaced my symbol of possibility and I can't be the one to do it now.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Things weren't meant to turn out this way.

Questions that I couldn't vocalize on the boat, surface in my mind. How could you say those things to me? That person you described, it's not _me_! It's not! I thought you knew me, how can you not know me? And the way you did it, in front of _everyone_? Why? _Why? _The whole senior class was on that boat, watching us, listening, sniggering. Oh God, how am I going to face them? You out of everyone know what it's like to be gossip material of Capeside High. Did you want to hurt me that much? Was that it? I don't understand. Nothing makes sense. Why? Why tell me like that? Had I hurt you that much that you couldn't find another way? Why couldn't I see all the pain you were in all this time? What kind of person does that make me? I couldn't see that the person whom I love the most was in so much agony.

I crush the necklace in my palm and bring my fist up to my mouth, my body shuddering violently as I sob in silence.

Just like my dress, you ripped my heart – only instead of the small tear to my dress, my heart's broken into a thousand pieces. Or was it me, did I do it? Did I do the damage both times? God, is everything really all my fault? Am I to blame? Yes? No?

I..I don't know. I'm not sure of anything anymore. Not sure if I ever will be again.

Eventually my sobs die down and I swipe my palm across my eyes and nose. I may not be sure of anything right now, but what I can do is make sure _no one_ can see where my heart is ripped. Where once I felt so alive I'm numb inside. Especially not him. No, definitely not him. I can't, won't, let him see that.

So that's exactly what I'm going to do. Won't let anyone see my internal pain.

That and never wear lilac again.

Suddenly drained of everything, it takes all my strength to walk to my bed and pull back the covers. Releasing a tremulous sigh, I burrow underneath, seeking the warmth I hope to find. The white noise of questions which have no hope of answers can wait. For now, I simply want to lay here in the sanctuary of my bed where no one can see me and let the last of my tears silently fall.

I'm still clutching my rainbow necklace in my palm, tight enough that no doubt an imprint will be in my skin in the morning. I'm not sure why I'm holding it, like I said I'm not sure of anything anymore.

Maybe come dawn everything will be clearer. Maybe my battered heart won't hurt so much and I can try to patch it up, one piece at a time.

Then maybe I can make myself believe that what was once broken, can be fixed.

All I need is a sign. Please. Just give me a sign that everything will work out? That's all I ask. Because I don't think I can find the answers on my own. Not anymore.

Not without you.

Maybe not tomorrow, the day after, or even five years from now. But one day? Someday, sometime in the future, tell me that everything will be okay?

In the place where I once again believe in possibility and where the magic never runs out, somewhere over the pain.

THE END


End file.
